


A Brief Reprieve

by bluehawthorn



Series: Lessons in Kingship [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring Thranduil, Desolation of Smaug, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Elf Culture & Customs, M/M, Maybe Everyone Can Live This Way?, Mirkwood, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Quickie, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slash, Smut, Thorin POV, Thorinduil - Freeform, Thrandorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and his company are discovered in Mirkwood and are treated to a night of elvish hospitality before continuing the quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably only make sense if you read An Initiation and A Growing Trust, the first two fics in this series first.

The company has been stumbling disoriented through the fell enchantments of Mirkwood for what seems like days when they are attacked by giant spiders and then waylaid by the elf guards who are hunting them.

Stripped of their weapons, they are taken to the halls of the Woodland Realm and thrown into the dungeon as trespassers. Thorin can hear Dwalin and Fili throwing themselves against the bars nearby before he is taken from his cell to be brought to the king.

And, after a long walk flanked between two guards, there he is. Thranduil is lounging long-limbed in all his arrogant grace on the high antlered throne, his head wreathed with a crown of branches and autumn berries, as composed and compelling as ever. 

Thorin is not happy to see him. Despite his history with the king of Mirkwood, Thorin had hoped to avoid detection while he moved through Thranduil's lands. He knows that very few people, even their allies, would support his quest and the dangers it entails. And although he trusts Thranduil more than most, he will not allow anyone the opportunity to turn him aside from his goal. They must reach the hidden door in the mountain by Durin’s Day, and time is swiftly passing.

However, he cannot deny the stirring he feels as Thranduil descends from the throne in his long silver robes and walks toward him saying, “Thorin. It is a pleasure to see you, although I must say I am surprised that you would not send word of your coming. If you had, your welcome would have been much more fitting.”

Thorin clears his throat and uses his most commanding tone. "My company – they are locked in your dungeons. I wish you to free them immediately."

“Ah, yes. You must excuse my son for the treatment you received. He is hot-tempered at times, and does not know of our...friendship.” Thranduil's lips curl in a small smile.

Thorin’s shifts a bit at this, uncomfortable at the weight of implication in Thranduil's words. And it gives him pause to know that it was Thranduil's son they met earlier in the forest. He knew that there was a prince, but had not known that it was he who had taken them prisoner. He finds it difficult to imagine Thranduil with a wife and child, as a husband and father.

After a moment he shakes these thoughts away and squares his wide shoulders, attempting to convey a sense of authority. He is no longer the boy Thranduil once taught about submission and strength and the pleasures of the senses and he does not wish to be perceived as such. He has been tested in battle, grown skilled as a warrior. And with his father and his grandfather gone he is a king in his own right, although one with a throne that needs reclaiming. 

Thranduil’s face warms in something like mirth. Thorin wonders for a moment if Thranduil is reading his thoughts on his face as he has always seemed able to do and whether this smirk is at his expense. 

“Do not fret Thorin. I have had them taken from the dungeons and they will soon be in the Great Hall, enjoying a celebration. It is Mereth Nuin Giliath, the Feast of Starlight. The festivities go from nightfall to dawn. I was informed that your company, the young ones especially, were very pleased that we have a more varied diet than the elves of Imladris. Once they have supped they have been told they can choose to continue celebrating or will be shown to beds to sleep until the dawn."

Now that he knows his men are no longer locked in cells, Thorin feels his body relax the tiniest measure. He now turns his energy to holding back the floodgates of memory that are threatening to break in Thranduil’s presence. 

Thorin has been with several others since the last time he lay with the elvenking. A prince coming into his prime and power has no shortage of willing and enthusiastic admirers and he has indulged himself with a few dwarves and humans, male and female both. 

However, no one has affected him like Thranduil does and he can feel the old attraction churning in his belly now with the elvenking so near; Thranduil who was his first, who has tormented and comforted him, who has pushed him to his limits and dealt him more pleasure than he had thought possible.

Thranduil does not seem unaffected either. He moves closer to examine Thorin, his head tilted to one side as he circles around him, much like the first time they were together in Erebor when Thorin's grandfather was king beneath the mountain.

Thranduil grazes his fingertips across Thorin's chest as he walks around him and Thorin wonders, not for the first time, whether it is the elf's great age and long-held kingship which allows him to be so brazen. It awakens a low thundering of desire in him.

“It has been a long time Thorin. You are the same and yet also changed. Hardened perhaps. I am saddened to see it. I know that you have been through much hardship and loss since last we saw one another. I am sorry for what you have suffered. I know what it is to lose those you love to a great evil.” 

Thranduil pauses and gives him a look of genuine compassion. Thorin feels the small relief of being understood, something he has felt with the elvenking before and only infrequently with anyone else. Then Thranduil continues his assessment, looking him up and down and speaking in his low, melodious voice that pulls at Thorin's memories.

“But also, you have the bearing of a true leader, something I always saw the seeds of in you which has now come to fruition. You are truly a king, although as of yet a crownless one."

And at this Thranduil's eyes narrow, gazing at him more intensely and looking as though he is puzzling something out. Thorin tries not to fidget under his scrutiny. "But one with a purpose. A purpose I am assuming is at the heart of why you are here without my prior knowledge and consent. You are on your way to Erebor. You are travelling to the Lonely Mountain to take back your kingdom.”

It is not a question. Thorin inclines his head in acknowledgment. There is no use denying it. He knows Thranduil's powers of perception all too well. 

Thranduil nods slowly. Looking down from his substantial height the elvenking questions him somewhat imperiously, as is his way, but also with an underlying tone of real curiosity. "But how will you do this? How will you enter the mountain? And what of the dragon? If you awaken the beast it will rain down fire not only on you, but on the surrounding lands. Perhaps even my own. Do you truly believe this wise?"

Thorin considers for a moment, deciding how much to reveal to Thranduil and then begins. "Gandalf the Grey has urged us to move on the mountain. He worries that the dragon, left to his own devices any longer, may be turned toward darker ends. And Smaug has not been seen for many years. There are signs that the worm's reign is over. If this is true we cannot risk others plundering the wealth of our people as it lays unguarded. It is time the dwarves of Erebor returned to their homeland." As he has talked his voice has grown louder, ringing with conviction.

He hesitates, wondering that yet again he has revealed more to Thranduil than he intended. This strange effect the elvenking has on him never seems to fade. 

Thranduil's gaze piercing him, Thorin continues more quietly, "And we have learned that there is another way into the mountain. We believe it to be secret, perhaps even from Smaug. I wish to use it to find the Arkenstone. Then I will have the power to unite the dwarves and defeat the beast if it still lives. But we must hurry. There is a matter of timing."

"Then there is no way for me to dissuade you from doing this thing?" replies Thranduil as though he already knows the answer. 

"Short of keeping me imprisoned and ending both our alliance and friendship, no, there is not."

Thranduil looks suddenly resolved. "Then I will send my son Legolas and the Captain of my Guard to see you through the forest. In fact, I will empower them to protect and fight alongside you until this quest is done if you will allow it. They are both highly skilled with bow and blade and tend toward restlessness. They will be happy to be above ground with a task to fulfill while I close our borders to keep my people safe, lest you wake the dragon."

Thorin looks up at Thranduil, surprised by this offer. He watches the elf's brow tighten before he continues. "But know this: you must do this thing through stealth and cunning if at all possible. You risk the lives of many Thorin Oakenshield.” 

At this Thranduil paces away, looking out over the spacious vaulting caverns of his kingdom, into the distance. He sighs. “But if both you and Mithrandir believe this necessary then I will trust that it is so. I know more than most that there is an evil growing in the world and that things none of us yet understand have been set into motion. I only hope the outcome of your quest is worth it’s cost in the end."

After a moment he turns back. “And Thorin?”

“Yes?” he answers.

“Stay alive if you can. I like you this way.” Thranduil smiles and it is touched with sadness.

Thorin smiles back somewhat wryly. “I will try. I rather prefer it also.”

At this, Thranduil walks to the base of the throne and picks up a sword lying where Thorin had not noticed it. Orcrist. The elf Thorin now knows to be Thranduil's son took it from him and he had not thought he would get it back.

“I assume you already know the history of this blade?”

Thorin nods, yes.

“I do not know how you came by it, but I believe it found you for a reason. I wish you to keep it. It will serve you well." He hands it to Thorin, who knows the significance of the gesture: of being given a weapon in Thranduil's throne room, while the king's own blade is absent from his side. And especially to be reunited with this particular sword, forged by Thranduil's kin. He inclines his head gratefully. "I am honoured to carry it."

Thranduil closes his eyes, inclines his chin, and then opens them slowly in acknowledgement. “Well then. The night is young. What are you most in need of? Food, drink, rest....attention?” And the last is said with a sly tilt of the head and a seductive glint in the elf's eyes.

Thorin tries to ignore it and remain bent on the task at hand. “I wish I could accept your hospitality, but we cannot spare the time. We must leave at once. Thank you for feeding my men. Please take me to them so that we can be on our way, which we can find on our own – you needn’t send anyone with us.” He does not wish to be further obligated to Mirkwood in this quest.

Thranduil gives a small, quick laugh. “Still stubborn in the way of your kind I see. Let me give you some advice, from one king to another, Thorin son of Thrain. A ruler's burdens are heavy and a warrior's losses many. Few can be avoided but we need not make them greater for ourselves. Always take help when offered truly. Not doing so will only get you killed for your pride. And second, always take a reprieve, however small, wherever you find it. Life must be worth fighting for and protecting for us too after all.” His suggestive smile returns. “And also, our judgement is better when our bellies are full and our other needs satisfied."

With this, Thranduil leads him away saying, “Come. Let us get you some food. You can leave at the break of dawn.” Thorin, his stomach aching from lack, decides not to argue. A few hours will not set them behind enough to matter in the end, or at least he hopes it will not.

*************

They travel up staircases and across pathways that wind along sheer drops and cross so near to waterfalls that they can feel the spray on their faces. Eventually they enter a corridor like the one that Thorin remembers leading to Thranduil’s chambers. 

As they walk along it, Thranduil takes up his elbow and pulls him into a small alcove. It holds a bench carved into the wall and a statue that he thinks may be of a relation of Thranduil’s - it has the same noble bearing and elegant jawline. 

Thorin looks around, wondering why they have stopped. In explanation, Thranduil only backs him up against the wall, looking down at him with one side of his mouth curled and his eyes darkened with what looks to be desire. "I have the thought that perhaps other hungers should be tended to before we feast," he says.

With this, Thranduil leans down to kiss him. Out of instinct and memory more than thought and decision, Thorin kisses him back, the shape of Thranduil's mouth familiar and sweet. 

"Are you willing?” Thranduil asks, pulling away and giving a moment for arousal to upwell in him and show on his face before the elvenking slips his hand under his tunic and down the front of Thorin's trousers. Thorin gasps and Thranduil bends to murmur in his ear. "We can be quick."

Thorin answers by pulling Thranduil down to kiss him again, tracing the sensual curve of the elf's lips with his tongue and then pushing it deep into his mouth. He tastes just as Thorin remembers. For a moment he worries that they might be discovered here - there is nothing but the statue to hide them and he does not know how frequented this corridor is - but all else is forgotten as the elf's skilled fingers wrap around his cock, stroking his growing hardness. 

Thranduil's other hand is tangled in his hair, pulling his neck back so that his head is tilted up into the elf's hard bruising kisses. Then Thranduil is leaning down, biting at his neck and sucking marks onto his skin. His hand is pumping tightly over Thorin's cock, making him groan and take up fistfuls of Thranduil's robe to pull him closer. 

Thranduil pulls his hand away, making Thorin ache in its absence. With urgency in his movements, he tugs off Thorin's jacket and tunic to bare his chest, and pushes him roughly over to the bench in the wall. It is tall for him but he lifts himself onto it.

Thranduil follows immediately behind, straddling Thorin's lap. Thorin tears open the front of his robe, biting and licking at Thranduil’s skin as it is revealed. He is gripping The elf's sides in his hands, thick fingers pressed into his ribcage. 

Thorin's hands move down to Thranduils hips, pulling him tight against the hard bulge of his cock. And Thranduil is riding him, his own erection pressing against Thorin's, his hands grasping Thorin's shoulders.

Scraping his fingers down over Thorin's chest forcefully enough to leave trails of reddened skin in their wake as he goes, Thranduil eases himself off his lap and kneels in front of him. Here their height is more even, and Thorin can pull Thranduil toward him, removing his crown and ravishing one of the elvenking's sensitive ears with his teeth and tongue. Thranduil cries out, his fingertips digging into Thorin's thighs. 

While Thorin turns his attention to Thranduil’s other ear, the elf reaches into Thorin's trousers again, and pulls out his engorged cock. Thranduil looks at it for a moment and then at Thorin's face and with a crooked smirk says, "I missed you." Then he spreads his hands over Thorin's thighs and plunges his mouth down over his cock. 

Thorin growls and pulls at the elvenking's hair, bucking up into the unbelievably silky hot wetness of his mouth. The tip of his cock is rubbing against the slick arc of Thranduils palate, the bottom of the shaft sliding against the tantalizing heat of his tongue. 

And then Thranduil is rolling his neck with wanton abandon, twisting his tongue over him, rubbing his cock against the inside of his cheeks. He sucks harder and it is a maelstrom of sensation. Thorin is delirious with it, pushing into the tightness at the back of Thranduil’s throat, who takes it, who chokes on his cock but does not pull away. 

There is a sharp, electrifying pulsing through the core of him and then Thorin feels a splintering of pleasure rip through him and he is coming apart like a tree split open by lightning and spurting in hard spasms into Thranduil’s mouth. He groans loudly with his release, not caring if someone else can hear.

Thranduil reaches up to kiss him and Thorin can taste his spend on the elvenking's tongue.

He stands and pushes Thranduil down, following him to the ground and pressing him into the floor with the weight of his body. "I have missed you too," he says low and husky into Thranduil’s ear as he reaches between them to take hold of the elf's cock through the cloth of his breeches. "Let me show you just how much."

Thorin tears open the rest of Thranduil’s robe and pushes it aside. He runs his fingers down over the elf's chest and stomach and then roughly tugs down his leggings, freeing his cock. He takes it up in his hand and rubs the head of it over lips, flicking the slit with his tongue while Thranduil breathes short and heavy and leans up on his elbows to watch. 

Thorin flattens his tongue and runs it up the shaft from bottom to top, then buries the whole thing in his mouth to the hilt. He quickly slides back up and runs his tongue and lips over one side, swallowing it down again before repeating on the other side. Thranduil is gasping, his legs straining against the confines of the leggings bunched around his knees.

Wanting Thranduil to be freer to move, Thorin pulls his breeches the rest of the way off. He then grabs ahold of Thranduil and turns him over so that their positions are reversed and the elf is on all fours with Thorin's face between his thighs. 

He wants to see Thranduil completely wrecked with pleasure. He takes Thranduil's cock into his mouth again, using his hands to guide the elvenking's hips into a rhythm of thrusting deep into his throat. 

Thorin reaches up and cups Thranduil’s sac in his hand, rolling it over his palm and then squeezing gently as Thranduil grows nearer to climax. He sweeps his tongue back and forth over the elf’s length as it plunders his mouth. He can feel Thranduil’s body tightening, hear him groaning as his back arches and a shuddering runs through his belly, which is taut now with tension. Then Thranduil is crying out his name, his hips jerking, losing some of his natural grace as his seed gushes hot and salty into Thorin's mouth.

After, they lie side by side catching their breath. A short time later, Thranduil sits up in his torn robes and says with a small smile, “Well then, shall we?” 

He offers his hand to Thorin before standing. Thorin chuckles softly, shaking his head before taking Thranduil’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

***************

A small while later, after they have pulled themselves together - Thorin smoothing his rumpled garments and hiding his bruises under them as best he can and Thranduil having put his crown back on and had a servant bring him new robes to replace the ones which Thorin ripped off him - they arrive together at the feast.

They take a place at the head table, on a dais above the others. The hall is open to the sky and the stars are glinting overhead. Thorin can see his men eating and laughing together a small distance off. They are growing raucous, much to the amusement of the elves around them. Balin and Dwalin, always more observant and watchful than the rest, look up and relief crosses their faces when they see him. And he sees with his own relief that Bilbo is there too. Thorin makes a mental note to ask later when and how the halfling reappeared.

Bofur starts singing a refrain from an old dwarvish drinking song and the company joins in, spiritedly raising mugs of ale and glasses of wine. The elves around them are laughing and cheering them on. Mirkwood elves may be less wise and more dangerous than their kin as he has heard them described, but they are also merrier and more compatible with his kind, thinks Thorin. 

Thranduil looks on, smiling. He keeps a distance, as a ruler must, but Thorin can see that he takes genuine pleasure in the joy of his people. Thranduil has made his kingdom insular and isolated but he has also kept it safe, and so they can let their guard down like this for a night.

They feast. Throughout the night, Thranduil plies him with small gestures of affection, laying his hand along Thorin's arm, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. At first it makes him anxious; he does not want the others to see. But no one seems to notice and soon Thorin loses his self-consciousness and begins to truly enjoy himself. The food and wine is delicious, the night warm and fragrant, the atmosphere of celebration contagious and he is more satiated physically than he has been in a good long while. 

He leans back in his chair and soaks it all in. At one point the king's son comes to speak with his father, and he can see the resemblance between them and the similarities in their movements and mannerisms. Thorin can also see that Thranduil’s relationship with Legolas is somewhat strained, but that under his guarded demeanour Thranduil adores his son. 

Legolas leaves them and joins the red-headed guard where she sits at the same table as the company, likely as an act of contrition for their earlier treatment of the dwarves. Thranduil explains that she is the Captain of the Guard he spoke of earlier and tells him her name: Tauriel. He knows now that if Thranduil insists, he will take Legolas and Tauriel with them when they go. Having guides through the forest and two more fighters amongst them can only help the quest.

Tauriel is quite obviously enjoying herself, watching the mischief of the company as they grow drunker, her smile widening as the night wears on. He can see how she looks at Kili with something more than amusement, and how he looks back, young and rakish and obviously taken with her, and how Legolas looks at her too. He knows this could spell trouble, but also sees the fierceness and battle-grace in the young warriors, and if they all fight harder for how they feel for each other, that can only keep them safer.

He thinks also of Erebor, in its glory; how it was once like this, a place filled with laughter and feasting and song. It reawakens his sense of purpose to be here and to imagine his home restored to something like this - to imagine himself in Thranduil’s place, overlooking the celebrations of his people.

He looks up at Thranduil next to him, who looks back with a warm smile before turning again towards the festivities spread out before them. But even as he looks away, Thranduil reaches under the table, for just a moment taking Thorin's hand in his. And Thorin finds himself grateful to the elvenking yet again, for giving him this brief reprieve.

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly rewriting the story under the influence of Thorinduil. Comments very welcome.


End file.
